Aftershock
by Thanatos34
Summary: Sequel to Mindgames. Shepard just wants to retire from the military and head off with Garrus for some peace and relaxation after the War. Fate has a different idea, as old enemies and new ones rise from the shadows.
1. Relaxation Interrupted

_~Author's Note~ Yeah so, Warrior Angel is on hold. I'm having issues with some things, and just have writer's block with the overall plot, and I don't want to just head down a path willy-nilly without knowing where I'm going. So I figured I'd put up the first chapter of another idea I had, thanks to a few people asking to see more in the universe of Mindgames. Given how easy this one was to write, I might continue with this and put WA on the backburner for now._

_So... this is the sequel to Mindgames. It is set between chapters 14 and 15 of Mindgames for the most part, (remember, chapter 15 begins nine years after the War's official end). If you haven't read that fic, it's okay, but you might be confused about a few things, namely, why certain people are dead, and why Liara is so interested in Jack. So if you haven't read it and you want at least a decent alternate ending to Mass Effect 3, head over to my profile. I'd give a link here, but it keeps messing up whenever I try to put it in. It should be easy enough to find, if you have trouble locating it for some reason, just shoot me a PM._

_One last thing to clarify. In chapter 14 of Mindgames, I stated that Shepard resigns from the military a year after the end of the War. I realized while I was putting this chapter together that that statement will most likely be taken the wrong way. It is meant to read a year after the "unofficial" end of the War, not a year after the official end of the War, which would be six years too far._

_I hope you enjoy the chapter._

* * *

Everyone was trying to dissuade her, it seemed. First Admiral Hackett had personally called her, offering to give her her own command of a small squadron of ships, with the Normandy as her flagship, and set her to hunting down the rest of the Reapers. He'd also again offered her the promotion to Captain. Again, she had turned him down.

Then it was her mother, talking about her duty and responsibility to the galactic civilization who had done so much for her, but Katelyn was pretty certain that she was just teasing her. Especially given her mother's proclivity for blaming the leaders of said galactic civilization for pretty much all of its ills.

Now, it was Garrus' turn.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Shepard? Just run off into the unknown with no one but a dashing Turian by your side?" He grinned, his mandibles lifting in that particular way of his.

Of course, she was completely certain Garrus was teasing her.

"Hmm, you do make a good point. I might get a bit bored with such company. So much time on our hands, so little to do."

He laughed. "Shepard, I'm sure wherever we go, you will attract trouble. Like flies to nutrient paste, as the saying goes."

She rolled her eyes. "That is not how the saying goes, and I don't think even flies would touch that crap."

She reached up and traced his scars, which had faded, but were never going to go away completely. "Wait for me? This shouldn't take long."

"I'm half-expecting them to forcibly keep you in the military."

"They can't do that. Not to me. If there's one thing my actions have earned me, it's a bit of peace. Besides," her voice turned a bit darker, "a lot of people don't want me around anymore. While the War was still going on, they were fine with it, but now that it's pretty much over... well, not everyone thinks I was a hero, as much as Alliance brass tries to play that up. We did blow up a planet with billions of innocents on it."

He looked at her, still uncertain of what to say. It had been a little over a year since Shepard had used the geth virus to keep the Reaper fleets from jumping out of the Sol system, and subsequently destroyed the Charon Relay and the entire system, along with three-quarters of the enemy fleet. The decision still haunted her, mostly because the entire thing had been her idea. She had all but convinced herself that the reason she came up with the plan, and no one else thought of it, was because there was something fundamentally broken inside her. Something that allowed her to think of an idea that sacrificed so many lives, and she was sinking further into that belief no matter how many times Garrus tried pointing out otherwise. In the intervening time, she and the Normandy's crew had been all over the galaxy, spearheading surgical strikes at what remained of the enemy, and helping colonies to rebuild and resupply. Despite all this, she still acted like she was "making up" for her part in blowing up a heavily populated star system.

"Shepard..."

"Hush, you. I know there was no other way. It doesn't mean I can't feel bad about it. Just... wait for me, okay? I'll be half an hour, tops." She kissed him on the cheek, and turned to enter the building.

Alliance Military Headquarters, the sign read outside. Funny that they would just advertise their presence like that. Of course, they were looking for volunteers in the wake of the Battle of Sol, as the humans were calling it. Alliance brass had set up shop on Eden Prime for the time being, only temporarily, they assured the rest of their species. Garrus didn't see why the humans shouldn't make Eden Prime their new home. Sure, it wasn't as large as Earth, but they didn't really need a planet as large as that anymore. He winced. That was a rather callous thought. But really, though, it was a garden world, it was plenty big enough to suit their needs for a home planet, why not make it official?

He shook his head. Some things he would never understand about humans. Turians would be all about practicality, finding a home planet as soon as possible. They would spout things like morale, and building up the populace, and they'd actually be right for once. Wandering around the galaxy with no place to call home was not a good life for most people, of any race. The Quarians may have endured it, but they were clearly far happier on Rannoch.

Staking a claim to an official homeworld would make the recovery process go far easier for the humans. The Council had set up supply chains to many of the more remote human colonies, mostly because of political pressure for something to be done. Much of the galaxy viewed humanity in a different light now, including many of the batarians. It was funny that the humans themselves seemed to be the only ones who were completely divided on whether Shepard's decision had been necessary. Well, maybe not. He supposed he could see the other side of things, assuming he didn't have a tactical mind, or if he had had relatives on Earth. Solana and his father had survived the Reaper's assault on Palaven, and Shepard even gave them a ride on the Normandy when she lead the strike that destroyed the last Reaper on Palaven. But if they had been on Earth, he might have different feelings about Shepard's decision.

He shook his head, clearing it of such morbid thoughts, and glanced up at the building, wondering if Shepard would be much longer. Maybe he'd drop back across the street to that cafe they had visited earlier, and grab another bite to eat. For a human-owned place, they made some pretty good dextro food. Nothing like homemade Palavenian food, of course, but a passable alternative.

* * *

The clerk at the receptions desk didn't even look up when Shepard approached her. She spoke in a monotonous voice, repeating a formula that Shepard was sure she had been saying all day long.

"Please state your name and your business."

"Katelyn Shepard, Commander." The clerk's head snapped up at that. "I'm here to turn in my form." The woman regarded her with wide eyes, and just stared, unspeaking. Shepard cleared her throat. "Form 364B? For retirement from active duty?"

"Oh yes, of course ma'am, right away. I'll just get... um. I'll get that for you."

She smiled at the woman, hoping to calm her, but all it seemed to do was make her more nervous. The clerk hit a couple buttons on the interface in front of her and then looked up at Shepard.

"J-just approach the terminal. I've keyed it up for you."

"Thank you," she scanned the woman's badge, "Lieutenant... Williams. Much appreciated." She swallowed a bit at the name, but kept her composure. Ash's death had been over a year ago, but it still hit her hard every time she thought about her. And on top of that, they still weren't certain if Ash's family had been off-earth when the Charon Relay was destroyed. She figured there were a lot of things they would never know, and a lot of people they would never truly be certain whether or not they were alive.

She had walked over to the terminal when the woman spoke again, still nervous, but gaining a bit more confidence. "Ma'am? If I may?"

Shepard turned around again, hoping against hope that this wasn't leading where she thought it was leading. "What is it, Lieutenant?"

"Do you... do you really think," Williams took a deep breath and then looked her in the eye, "do you really think you should be retiring when the Reapers are still out there?"

Well. That wasn't as bad as where she thought it had been going.

"I'm fully confident in Alliance command, not to mention the Council, and their ability to finish the job. We've destroyed nearly all of the enemy's forces. It's just a matter of tracking down and destroying the last few."

The woman held her gaze, gaining confidence. "Will all due respect, ma'am, Alliance command and the Council would have let us fall to the Reapers if you hadn't been there."

Shepard gritted her teeth. This was precisely why she had come in here in the middle of the day, on a weekday. So no one would be here and be asking these questions. Did Williams really think she hadn't thought this through?

"And now, I've pointed out the enemy, and all they have to do is find them and finish it. If they aren't capable of that, then we're all screwed." She turned around, still gritting her teeth, and started filling out the paperwork. The woman behind her lapsed into silence. Shepard lost her anger as she went down the list. She was extremely grateful to Hackett for streamlining the process, normally it wouldn't be this easy. But he had made an exception for her, pretty much the only time she had used her reputation as a bargaining chip to get what she wanted. She was tired of fighting this endless war, and all that was left was mop-up action. She had spoken the truth to the lieutenant, there really was nothing more she could do that any other soldier couldn't also do.

And besides, she hadn't resigned her Spectre status. The Council had gone to the unprecedented step of granting her an "indefinite leave of absence," something they had to add into their little rulebook on Spectres, she was certain. If there was a problem, she could return to help in just a few weeks, but she had made a silent promise to herself that she wouldn't do so unless there was a dire emergency.

One final signature and it was done. The green button marked send was flashing, and with an odd sense of reluctance Shepard reached out, took a breath, and pushed it. It was over. She straightened up, let her omnitool die down, and just stood there, staring at the "Message Sent," on the screen. Then that went away, and the original screen popped back up. "Please insert I.D."

She turned away from the terminal, took a deep breath, and headed back outside. She vaguely heard the lieutenant call out to "Have a nice day," but she didn't reply. She pushed on the door, and it gave way, opening to a bright sky, and a completely cloudless day.

For the first time in sixteen years, she was not an active member of the military. That felt a little odd, but good. She was free to make her own decisions, truly free. No one could call her up and order her to go chasing down a rogue geth halfway across the galaxy, they could only request her assistance. She grinned. Yes, it was definitely a good feeling.

She waved to Garrus, who had migrated across the street. He was eating something that she didn't even want to look at twice, much less ingest. He gave a theatrical sigh of relief, and motioned her over to him. She grinned, and started to make her way across the street.

And it was then that everything went straight to hell.

She had just begun crossing the street when a massive wave of sound, fire and metal hit her from behind as the Alliance Military Headquarters exploded, spewing steel and flame in a wide vicinity. The shockwave knocked her across the street and through the window of the cafe where just an hour before, she and Garrus had shared lunch.

Her hearing was almost completely gone, but she did manage to detect the soft thump of someone landing near her, and a familiar taloned hand gently turned her over. She tried to tell Garrus she was going to be alright, but she couldn't tell if she was screaming at the top of her lungs, or even saying anything at all.

Her ears ringing and her vision fading, she gave her best attempt at a smile in case nothing she had attempted to say had gotten through to him.

Then the blackness rolled in and she surrendered to its welcome embrace.


	2. An Old Friend

_~Author's Note~ And time to plow ahead._

_Please drop me a review if you read, and enjoy the chapter!_

* * *

~10 minutes earlier~

Garrus opened the door to the _Garden of Eden _cafe, the small bell at the door ringing to let the staff know another customer had entered the restaurant. The waitress smiled when she saw him, he and Shepard had given her a nice tip, if he recalled correctly.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Vakarian?"

Garrus knew exactly what he was going to order- simply more of the same. They made an excellent Palavenian grub "burger"- although that wasn't the name he was used to calling it. Still, he wasn't going to complain about them giving it a different name as long as it had the same taste.

He had just taken a seat, waiting for his food to be delivered, when a salarian sat down in the seat opposite his. The salarian was wearing a sort of armor that made it rather difficult to see its features.

Garrus' mandibles twitched. Something wasn't right. "Can I help you?"

The salarian looked up and met his gaze. "Garrus Vakarian?"

Garrus started as he realized it was a female salarian. That was even more odd, salarian females generally didn't leave their homeworld, for one to be all the way on Eden Prime... "That would be me. Who's asking?"

The salarian grinned, showing her teeth. "You should keep a better watch on your human."

Garrus opened his mouth to ask whether that was a threat, when the waitress came back to the table and delivered his food. When she moved, clearing his line of sight, the salarian was gone.

Garrus grabbed the waitress by the sleeve of her shirt. "Where did she go?"

The waitress looked down at his hand, and then back up at his face, and Garrus realized that physically grabbing a waitress in a cafe was probably not something that you should normally do. He released her shirt and repeated his question.

"Where did she go?"

"Where did who go?"

"The salarian, the one who was sitting right next to me at the table."

"Mr. Vakarian, there was no one else sitting at your table, much less a salarian. I have never even seen a salarian on Eden Prime."

"But.. I..."

She gave him a look that probably meant she thought he had had too much to drink. Shaking her head, she headed off across the room to the other tables. Garrus dashed outside the front of the cafe and glanced around. No salarian in sight. He had just started to ask himself if he should head over to Headquarters and get Shepard out of there, when she came out of the front door. She gave him a wave, and he waved back, motioning her over, unable to stop a sigh of relief from escaping him.

That was when the building behind her blew up.

* * *

Garrus landed beside Shepard, having jumped through the window she had just smashed. Gently, he rolled her over, trying not to aggravate any wounds she may have suffered.

"Shepard, hang in there. I'm gonna get you out of this mess."

Her face started to form a small smile, but then the injuries caught up to her and she passed out.

He picked her up, something he probably would not have done under "normal" circumstances, as he knew moving her could exacerbate a neck injury. But she couldn't stay here, not when the building she had just been in had been bombed.

And it was a bomb, Garrus knew enough of explosives to realize that. That knowledge, combined with the salarian he had met, made it rather obvious that the blast had been intended for Shepard. Someone was trying to kill her, and if they had any people in the area, they knew she may have survived the explosion.

So he had to move her before they got pinned down here, if any other enemies were coming. And Garrus always assumed more enemies would be coming. That way, he would be pleasantly surprised if none showed up. Spirits, he really hoped none showed up this time. It would be great to be wrong about this whole thing.

He decided to get out of the cafe- he didn't trust all those people in there, any one of them could stab him in the back- but he took the back entrance. Heading out the front, back onto the street, seemed to be tantamount to suicide. There were plenty of perches for snipers that could watch the entire road, and take him out before he had any idea he was even in danger.

He shut the door softly behind him, trying to stay as silent as possible, and headed down the alleyway.

He started firing up his omnitool, thinking about calling someone for help, and it was only because he had looked down to do so that Shepard wasn't killed. The red dot hovering on her forehead was recognized by the instinctual part of him long before his brain caught up to the fact that a sniper had her in his sights, and he threw both of them to the left. The crack of a gunshot rang across the evening air, and a round plowed into the street where Garrus had just been standing.

He cursed under his breath. He was in no position to fight, having to carry Shepard, and with an enemy sniper somewhere north of him. And the sniper doubtless had friends. He was in deep trouble. He headed off down a side road, using the buildings for cover, his head on a swivel trying to pick out any enemy forces before they could spot him, which was a long shot at best.

"Now would be an excellent time to wake up, Shepard. I could use some help."

There was no response. He rounded the corner and walked straight into a pair of gunmen. They stood, blinking at him, and before they could move, Garrus barreled into the one on the left, knocking him to the ground, and as the other gunman pulled a pistol on him, he smashed his headplate into the human's forehead. He took off running down the alleyway, but with his mind preoccupied on trying to save Shepard, he had forgotten to make certain that the human he knocked down was out for the count.

A sharp pain shot through his left spur as two shots rang out almost simultaneously. He stumbled and nearly fell, but managed to turn the corner.

And there was another pair of gunmen, and they were ready for him. Both had their pistols drawn and were regarding him coolly. When one of them spoke, his voice was odd, filtered obviously, whether to breathe better or to disguise his voice, Garrus wasn't certain.

"Give her up, Vakarian, and you can walk out of this."

The other sneered, looking down at the blue turian blood that dripped down from Garrus' leg. "I think he'll just be limping out of this. Come on, Coris, just finish him and take her."

Garrus heard footsteps running up behind him, but didn't bother to turn. It was odd that he was going to die in a back alley to a pair of thugs after surviving Omega. He was running through every possible scenario in his head, but without his armor, there was simply no way to cross the intervening space between him and the thugs without them shooting him, or more importantly to him, the burden he carried.

The person running up behind him rounded the corner, and without slowing, fired two shots. They both whizzed past Garrus and for a split-second, he thought that whoever it was, was a really bad shot. That was before both shots found their mark in the heads of the two thugs.

Garrus turned to see who his rescuer was. A human woman, vaguely familiar for some reason. She had dull gray eyes, straggly blond hair, and dirt spread across her face, and was wearing form-fitting black combat armor. All in all, it was a rather wild appearance.

She lowered her two pistols, still smoking, and shoved them into her belt. "Come on, Garrus, we need to get Shepard to safety." That voice... that voice was even more familiar.

"Who are you?"

She laughed. "Not surprised you don't recognize me, Garrus."

He stared, incredulous. The laugh gave her away, as it always had.

"Miranda?"


	3. Not Exactly the Normandy

_~Author's Note~ Sorry for the delay, my summer class got a little intense there for awhile. We should be back on schedule._

_Enjoy the chapter, and remember to drop me a review if you read._

* * *

Miranda led him through the winding alleys of the city. As she did, she gave him what was obviously a very shortened version of how she came to be on Eden Prime.

She was convinced that Cerberus was behind the unrest on the Salarian homeworld- Garrus found this to be slightly obsessive on her part. The salarians were more than capable of hating Shepard by themselves, they didn't need Cerberus to help. Besides why would they work with a human extremist group? Miranda was of the opinion that Shepard was a worrisome enough threat that the two would work together. Garrus thought that was ridiculous. She had just retired from the military and was about to head off with him on a much-needed and well-deserved vacation. No, if whoever had bombed that building was really after Shepard, then it was for revenge. That was the only thing that made sense. He could see both the salarians and Cerberus working separately to try to kill Shepard, but not together.

But he had stopped listening to Miranda for a moment while he put his thoughts together.

"-so I decided I needed some allies in this fight. I knew at least one person who would be more than happy to help me take down an organization that operates outside the law, although her insistence on staying within the law ourselves is proving to be rather... irritating."

They rounded the corner, and there, tucked away in the back corner of a metropolis, of all places, was a long grassy field. Humans. They would never cease to puzzle him. At the far end of the field, a small ship sat, obviously waiting for them, because the tell-tale sound of the engines firing up crossed the intervening space.

"She's no Normandy, and the pilot is nowhere near as good as Joker, but-"

Garrus interrupted her. "Miranda, if that thing can fly, then I'll take it. We need to get out of here."

She nodded, and they took off at a dead run towards the ship, Garrus trying not to jostle Shepard's unconscious form too much. They really needed to get her to a doctor, just to make sure that she had no internal injuries. And it would be best to do that before she regained consciousness, as Shepard's opinion of going to the doctor while still able to walk was low, to say the least.

A very familiar voice greeted them as they approached, the doors to the ship swinging wide.

"Garrus Vakarian. I do hope that burden you are carrying is Commander Shepard. You have six followers on your tail, might I assume they are criminals?"

He looked up into the ice blue eyes of the asari justicar, Samara. He let out a rather unmanly sound as she picked both him and Shepard up using her biotics and deposited them beside her in the hangar bay.

"Apologies, Garrus, but you were taking too long. Those six followers of yours have sniper ri-" She cut off, and threw up a barrier. Three shots rang off of the asari's shields. Miranda hauled herself up and over, falling beside Garrus and Shepard, yelling as she did so, "We're all clear, but we've got company. Go!"

The doors shut behind them, and a few seconds later, the roar of the engines doubled as the ship took off.

"Well. I think we can confirm Cerberus' presence on Eden Prime, Lawson. What exactly did they do?"

Miranda nodded towards Garrus and Shepard. "They were trying to kill her."

Samara looked over at Shepard and Garrus, shaking her head. "He just won't give up, will he? How'd they take her down?"

Garrus answered for Miranda. "They blew up the military building she had been in a few minutes before. The explosion threw her across the street and knocked her out."

Samara shook her head. "Doubtless a medic should check up on her, but unfortunately, we have no medics on board."

Garrus glanced around the interior of the ship.

There wasn't much to it at all. Besides the area they were standing in, next to the outer doors, there appeared to be two other chambers in the rear of the vehicle, as well as restrooms on either side. A walkway led forward to what was undoubtedly the cockpit. There was only one other room that Garrus could see from his vantage point, and it appeared to be the dining area. The ship would undoubtedly be a bit cramped with the four of them on board. Five, including the pilot.

Miranda noticed his inspection, and shrugged her shoulders. "It's the best I could get on a vigilante's salary," she said. Her tone suggested she was holding back laughter.

Garrus glared at her. He had no idea his line to Shepard had somehow been heard by anyone else. Miranda and her bugs.

Samara spoke up again, eyeing Shepard. "Why don't you head on back and put her down on one of the beds, doesn't matter which. Just make sure to strap her in. We don't want her rolling around and this could get... interesting, trying to get out of the system."

Garrus' mandibles flared in apprehension. "This thing can go through a mass effect relay?"

Samara and Miranda glanced at each other. "Supposedly."

"What? What does that mean?"

"Just go strap Shepard in and then come up in the cockpit. We've got four seats up there, it's actually rather roomy. She insisted on it."

Samara and Miranda started towards the front of the ship, leaving him to take Shepard back to the resting quarters. He gently laid her on the bed, and then pressed his forehead to hers. "We could really use you right about now."

There was no reply, she was still out cold. He used the provided straps to make sure she wouldn't go flying if they had to execute a turn, but left it so that she could easily get out, if she wanted to. He didn't want her to think she had been kidnapped by the enemy when she woke up.

Then he went to join his comrades.

He remembered on the Normandy taking four to five minutes to get from his quarters down in the battery up to the cockpit, but here, it took all of ten strides. There was definitely not enough space here for a prolonged voyage with more than three or four people at the most.

"I know how to fly this puny ship, human. Quit your ceaseless prattle and let me drive!"

"You can't execute that kind of turn, the strain on our engines-"

"I said SHUT IT."

The doors to the cockpit slid open and Garrus walked through, wondering who on Palaven was yelling like that at Miranda, and already preparing himself to like whoever it was, even if their voice sounded a little odd to him.

Samara was seated in the second row of chairs on his right. She was shaking her head and muttering something about embracing the goddess.

Miranda was bent over the pilot's chair from behind, gesturing with her arms in an attempt to get her point across to their pilot. The pilot who took up the entire chair and then some- a krogan, one of the larger ones Garrus had seen.

The krogan growled under its breath and turned, baring its teeth at Miranda, and it was then that Garrus noticed the subtle differences in skeletal structure and form. This krogan was a female. While it was still rare to see a krogan female off of Tuchanka, it was far less rare after the War. Most likely, she was one of the few females for whom the cure did not work.

While Wrex claimed that such females were still treated with respect, Garrus knew the krogan. The fact that the vast majority of females were now fertile meant that, even if it was simply subconsciously- though somehow he doubted that- those ones who could not be cured would be treated with less respect than the other females. This in turn had lead more than a few of them to try their fortunes off-world, to Wrex's intense displeasure, as he wanted all krogan on Tuchanka, at least for the moment, in order to help rebuild their race and their world.

Although he couldn't possibly enforce an edict commanding all krogan to return to Tuchanka, he could, and had, done many things to try to keep krogan from leaving Tuchanka. Garrus supposed he could see the logic behind Wrex's decision, but personally he didn't like it. It smacked too much of a dictator to him.

Miranda threw her hands up in disgust and turned to Samara. "She never listens to me."

The justicar regarded her coolly. "And yet, you continue to try to persuade her."

"She's going to get us killed."

The growl from the pilot's chair rose in intensity.

Samara sighed. "We are still in one piece, are we not? She has not failed us so far."

"She got us shot down by Cerberus!"

"That was not her fault, and you know it. You are being unfair. I doubt even Mr. Moreau would have been able to fly us out of that mess."

The krogan ceased growling immediately at the mention of Joker's name. Garrus cocked his head, regarding her. That was odd as well.

Samara nodded pointedly towards Garrus. "Besides, this is not how you should be talking to one of your crewmates. I believe introductions are in order."

Miranda sighed, and collapsed into the co-pilot's seat in defeat. She waved her hand, indicating the krogan. "Garrus, this is Raik Vraela. Vraela, this is Garrus Vakarian."

Vraela didn't turn her chair, but her voice contained a level of respect Garrus had never heard from any krogan save for Wrex. "The one who helped Commander Shepard and Mordin Solus to lift the curse of my people. It is an honor to meet you in person, Garrus."

"Um, thanks, I guess. It was Shepard and Mordin, really, I was just there to shoot things."

"Shooting things is good. Without your aid, would they have succeeded in their task?" Her voice seemed to be genuinely curious.

He got the sense that it was not a question designed to show him that he was important, but that she was asking a simple question.

Nonetheless, it would have done so, had he seriously thought he wasn't necessary. But every member of Shepard's squad had always been made to feel necessary. "I don't believe they would have succeeded that day without another member of the crew. Whether it had to be me personally, I guess we'll never know."

She grunted an acknowledgement, and Garrus sensed that the conversation was at an end. For now. He turned to Miranda.

"Where are we going?"

Miranda looked up at him and grinned deviously. "To take advantage of the Illusive Man's ever so generous hospitality."


	4. Desires

_~Author's Note~ Thanks to those who have left reviews, and for those expressing concern for Shepard, this chapter should make you feel a bit better. :P_

_She originally was going to wake up last chapter, but conversations ran longer than anticipated._

_Please do drop me a line if you read, and enjoy the chapter!_

* * *

Garrus looked down at the station as they approached.

"Is this one of your boss's old bases?"

Miranda smiled. "Not just any old base. This was where Project Lazarus was housed."

He turned to face her, concern written all over his features. "What? Is it safe?"

Her tone was full of biting sarcasm. "No, Garrus, I'm bringing an injured Shepard to a base of her foremost enemy in the galaxy, and I haven't double and triple-checked it to make sure its safe first."

Samara cut in, and her tone was less abrasive. "Garrus, I can personally vouch for this. I helped Miranda clear out the base of any leftover Cerberus equipment. As far as the Illusive Man knows, this base was destroyed during the Reaper War. We made sure to let him keep on thinking that."

Vraela maneuvered their ship, which Miranda had informed him was called _Storm of Justice, _into the docking hangar. Her handling of the ship in close quarters, while not quite as fluid as Joker's, was still exceptional. Garrus would have told her that, except she and Miranda were in another shouting match.

He sighed, turning to Samara. "Are they always like this?"

She nodded. "Their personalities do seem to be in constant conflict."

"And yours isn't?"

She smiled. "Perhaps so, but I don't tend to make a habit of giving voice to my every thought, only those I truly believe she needs to hear."

He glanced down at the asari justicar, considering. "Not to be rude or anything, but why are you helping Miranda with this? Cerberus didn't really do anything to you."

She raised an eyebrow. "So, I can't pursue an illegal terrorist organization without some personal vendetta against them? Do not confuse my motives for Ms. Lawson's, although our goals, in this case, happen to align."

As always, Samara managed to put him on the defensive. "No, I didn't mean it like that. It just seems that a justicar might have something... well, something more related to asari interests to pursue."

"The foremost pro-human terrorist organization in the galaxy is still at large, along with their leader, and while they do not mind using the asari for entertainment"- her eyes flashed- "rest assured, they would see us under the boot of the humans as much as any other species. I have no love lost for Cerberus."

Garrus nodded. "Fair enough. It just seems that with all the rebuilding and everything the asari will have to do on Thessia, you might be more useful to your species there. I was simply curious, no offense was meant."

She snorted and looked away. "They would rather avail themselves of the services of such ilk as the Shadow Broker, though I will admit that he seems more helpful recently. The planet is awash in politics and backdoor deals at the moment. If I went there, I'd have to kill half of our leaders, I'm sure."

She hesitated, uncertain whether to continue. Then, apparently deciding to trust him, "Besides, Garrus, I really didn't have a strong idea of what to do next. My reasoning for becoming a justicar was to correct the wrong I had inflicted on the galaxy in allowing my daughter to escape. Once that was... done, Shepard's mission to stop the Reapers kept me occupied for the next year, but now that is finished as well. My purpose, my reason, for becoming what I am... it is finished. When Miranda asked me for help in tracking down Cerberus, it was like a message directly from the Goddess. 'Here is your next goal.' So of course I agreed to help her fight them."

He nodded. While he himself did not follow the Spirits as religiously as some Turians, he knew the Asari were different, especially the justicars. And he could hardly fault her for her choice, Cerberus was indeed a great threat still in the galaxy, and probably would be, at least until the Illusive Man had been brought to justice. By which, preferably, he meant a bullet from his sniper rifle between that cretin's eyes. No one tried to kill his Shepard and get away with it. Miranda and Samara's goals seemed to align perfectly with his own for the moment. That vacation they wanted would have to wait.

His thoughts were scattered to the winds by the voice that spoke behind him.

"If you wanted to keep me in the bed, you need to learn to tie better knots."

She spoke right as there was a lull in the shouting match between Miranda and Vraela, so everyone in the cockpit heard her. Garrus turned, facing her, his own features lighting up with relief.

"Shepard! How are you feeling? You took quite a nasty-"

He was cut off by Shepard stepping up to him and delivering a kiss. She pulled back, her eyes sparkling. "I'm fine, big guy. Nothing a bit of rest and relaxation won't cure." She glanced around the cockpit. "So, are we now taking three other people on our vacation? Not that it isn't good to see you, Miranda, Samara"- she started a bit at the sight of a female krogan- "I don't believe I know you."

Vraela bowed, slightly, an expression that took Shepard off-guard. "I am Raik Vraela. It is a great honor to meet you in person, Battlemaster Shepard."

"Um, yes." She glanced over at Garrus, who shrugged. "The honor is all mine, I am sure."

Vraela's voice remained serene, but she shook her head. "No, it is not."

There was an awkward silence as Shepard attempted to figure out what that meant, and then Miranda broke it. "Well, we've docked, and I'm sure you two could use a shower and a change of clothing. There should still be some supplies left back in the kitchen, so we can try to whip up something resembling a meal."

Shepard laughed. "Well, we've definitely fallen down a bit in the galaxy. Where are we, anyhow? This place seems... somewhat familiar."

"It should." Miranda gestured out to the base as the doors of the ship opened. "This was where Project Lazarus took place."

Any mirth in Shepard's expression vanished in an instant. "Ah. Yes."

Garrus noticed the change and laid a talon on her shoulder. "Not exactly happy memories here, I would wager."

She shook her head, her lips tight together.

Miranda stood awkwardly, and headed down the corridor into the kitchen. Vraela decided she needed to stretch... everything, and vanished into the base, although they could still hear her footsteps echoing around the interior.

Samara looked at Garrus, then at Shepard, and decided the two needed to be alone for a few minutes, so she excused herself, mumbling something about helping Miranda.

Shepard took a seat in the nearest chair, staring straight ahead.

Garrus wasn't sure what exactly was troubling her, and gave her time to gather her thoughts before prodding.

"Are you alright, Katelyn?"

She looked up at him, her face twisted into an expression of grief. "The last time I was here... well, not only does it have bad memories because I had just died..." She stared down at her hands, twisting them, obviously unsure of how to continue.

Garrus simply waited her out and finally, she spoke again.

"I just... is it selfish to want some peace and quiet, Garrus? To want the galaxy to turn on its axis without me constantly attending to it? I just want to vanish, Garrus, to head off with you and do some... normal things for a change."

He replied quietly, staring out at the stars. "Of course it's not selfish. I want the same things. But Shepard... as long Cerberus is out there, that may not be possible."

She stared up at him, exhaustion sweeping over her now. "You really think that was them, back on Eden Prime?"

He remembered the salarian, in the bar. "I'm... not sure. I don't have any solid answers right now."

She sat there, and he stood behind her, staring off into the distance.

It seemed they were once again destined to embark on an adventure- but this time, Garrus didn't want to go.

"We are going to take that vacation, Shepard. Maybe later rather than sooner, but we are taking it. I promise you that."


	5. Unpleasant Memories and Unwelcome Guests

_~Author's Note~ Again, as I said in Warrior Angel, apologies for the delay. I was... detained longer than I thought I would be, to paraphrase Gandalf. I am also taking a five-day intersession course that is eight hours a day every day for this week, so next chapter may be delayed a bit, as I'm sure I will be burned out come Friday._

_Thanks to those of you who have left a review, it really fuels more writing, so it's a win-win situation. :)_

_Enjoy the chapter!_

* * *

Miranda Lawson was capable of many things. She was a crack-shot with either a submachine gun or a heavy pistol. Her biotics could smash through a man's skull at fifty yards. She was one of the most gifted humans alive, and she was genetically engineered to be one of the most beautiful as well. The one thing she could not do at all, unfortunately, was cook.

Which she was now discovering.

_Storm of Justice _had a very primitive setup, compared to the type of facilities Miranda was used to. Most ships did not truly need a cook, it was only necessary to have one if you wanted better cuisine than the food you could get out of the freeze-dried packets that nearly every space-worthy vessel was stocked with. So on most of the larger vessels with large crews, cooks were indeed a necessity, as the morale of the men and women would plummet were they forced to eat freeze-dried goods for the entirety of the trip. On smaller ships such as _Storm_, however, there was rarely a cook aboard, and most rations were simply the freeze-dried packets.

And that would have been just fine, except that in their rush to get away from Cerberus, they had neglected to restock their supplies, and thus were completely out of those rations. Which left Miranda in the unenviable position of trying to concoct some sort of meal from whatever was left in the fridge, a task that would been rather difficult for the best of cooks, but for Miranda was downright impossible.

She had heard that soup was easy to make.

Whoever had said that was obviously lying, in her opinion.

The concoction she had on the stove had boiled over at least four times now. The only reason why her hands weren't burned to a crisp was because she had formed a pair of biotic shields around her hands and forearms. It didn't exactly smell edible, either.

It pretty much smelled like the inside of the men's bathroom on the Normandy after Grunt had a particular problem.

She threw her hands up in disgust as the stuff sloshed all over the small stove they had.

"That's it. I give up. You're welcome to try if you want, Samara."

The asari justicar was careful not to let any of the amusement she was feeling slip into her voice. "No, I believe you've about figured it out."

The glare she received from the ex-Cerberus operative let her know that some of that amusement must have been detected.

"I'm going to see if there's any rations on board the station."

Samara inclined her head. "A good idea. A pity you didn't think of it earlier."

Another glare. "You could have mentioned something if you were thinking of it."

The justicar shook her head, a knowing smile playing over her face. "And deprive you of this opportunity to develop another skill? No. It was much better this way."

Miranda stalked out of the ship without a backwards glance, muttering something about stuck up blue bitches.

Samara smiled at her retreating form, and stood up, stretching. "Let's see what I can do with this mess."

* * *

The last time Shepard had been in this station was almost four years ago. Yet it had hardly changed at all. Had it simply sat here vacant for the entire time?

She stepped out of their ship, feeling a chill wash over her as she set foot on the station. The last time she had been here, Earth was still a vibrant planet, not a dead thing hanging in space. Assuming there was even anything left at all. As of yet, no one had gotten back there. The Alliance did not see the point of sending a reconnaissance team that would take a solid three or four months to get there from the closest relay. Everyone knew what had happened. Sol was no longer visible.

Garrus dropped down beside her, but he remained quiet, leaving her to her thoughts. She wasn't sure whether she was grateful to him for not interrupting, or if she would rather he say something to take her mind off of things.

"I'm too old to go through this again, Garrus."

He said nothing, just stared ahead. She started forward, unsure of where she was going.

It was funny, in a way. The mechs' bodies were still sitting where she had left them. They had decayed some, but they were obviously made of pretty decay-resistant material. No one had even bothered to clean up the place.

She moved through the station, but couldn't find the way back to the room where she had woken up, so long ago. Or at least it seemed a long time ago. Garrus trailed behind her, still leaving her to her thoughts. She took a turn, somewhere, and stepped through a door into a very large room. Computers, powered down, lined the room's interior.

"Huh. I wonder what this is. The master control room?"

Garrus stepped in behind her and took in the room. "I doubt it. You'd think they'd at least have it locked."

"Garrus, no one's been here for a long time. They have no power. I doubt anything in this place is locked."

She stepped forward, and, belying her statement, one of the computers in front of her lit up.

"Voice authorization, please."

* * *

Miranda finally pushed through the debris and into the room.

Preserved rations were stacked in here, enough to fully restock the ship and then some.

"Now this is more like it."

* * *

Vraela had finished stretching and headed back to the ship, finding it eerily quiet as she entered. The asari, she saw, was in the kitchen, humming some song as she worked over a foul-smelling liquid on the stove. Vraela shook her head. Asari's tastes where definitely not hers, and it had been far too long since she had some ryncol and varren meat. She pulled out her private store, shaking her head sadly as she saw it was nearly empty.

"Damn human needs to get me some more varren before I drop her out of the airlock." Taking a piece of the tough meat, she put what little was left back into its container.

She sat back down in the pilot's chair, leaning back, chewing on her strip of meat, daydreaming about better food.

The ping of the computer brought her out of her daze.

"Incoming vessel. Running profile match..."

She glanced down, curious but not concerned. They were mostly concealed and powered down, the chance of a ship being able to detect them in their current state was minimal.

That changed entirely when the computer finished its match.

The krogan curse word that she spat out along with her meat was not something one said in civilized society.

"Asari! Get in here!"

* * *

Shepard stood there, looking down at the computer. The curiosity to see what Cerberus might have had on their systems...

"This is Commander Shepard."

"Voice authorization denied."

Damn. Well it had been worth a shot.

She had turned to leave when Miranda's voice came over her omnitool.

"Hey Shepard, you have any preference as to what freeze-dried crap you eat? Or your lizard boyfriend?"

Her voice was jubilant, and she was obviously teasing. Well, Shepard thought, I guess she found the food.

In the background, she vaguely heard the computer talking again, and waved Garrus over to deal with it.

"No, Miranda. All that shit tastes the same. Just make sure to get some dextro-based food. Garrus? You care what type she gets?"

He shook his head, staring at the screen.

"No, he doesn't either. Grab whatever."

Miranda signed off, telling them to meet her back on the ship in 5.

Shepard bent down next to Garrus. "Well at least we won't starve. Why did it let us in?"

"I think it was keyed to Miranda's voice. Look at this."

She followed his gaze to a folder. _Lazarus._ "I'm not sure I want to look in there."

He glanced over at her. "Hey, it'll be fine. There might be some good info."

She refused to meet his gaze, and looked back at Cerberus' list of folders. The one directly underneath _Lazarus _was called _Leviathan. _That name sounded really familiar to her, but she couldn't quite call up why.

Garrus keyed something into his omnitool. "I'll copy the files on here. Just in case you decide you want to look at them."

"Grab that one, too," she said, pointing to the _Leviathan _folder. "Something about that name is familiar."

He nodded, copying both folders in a surprisingly short amount of time. Perhaps there wasn't as much information as he had thought.

Just as the two files had finished downloading, the omnitool on her wrist flashed again, and this time it was Samara's voice that came over the comm. "Shepard, you need to get back to the ship. Now. We have a problem."

"What's wrong, Samara?"

* * *

The justicar looked down at the computer, watching Vraela as she keyed the ship for a quick power-up and departure.

The profile match was flashing at her, the contours of the incoming ship in an all-too-familiar shape, one she had hoped never to see again.

She answered Shepard, her voice grim. "We've got company."

"Cerberus?"

If only that were the case. "I'm afraid not, Shepard. It's a Reaper."


End file.
